


Blood & Dreams

by silentflux



Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: Community: story_arc, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentflux/pseuds/silentflux





	Blood & Dreams

_**FIC: Blood & Dreams, Angel/Supernatural**_  
 **Title:** Blood  & Dreams  
 **Series:** Alliance  
 **Author:** [](http://silentflux.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**silentflux**](http://silentflux.dreamwidth.org/) /Andrea  
 **Fandom:** Angel the Series/Supernatural  
 **Rating:** FRT  
 **Characters:** Angel, Sam, Dean, John  
 **Spoilers:** Post Not Fade Away for Angel and during Supernatural Season 1 Episode 16 - Shadow.  
 **A/N:** This is for my [](http://community.livejournal.com/story_arc/profile)[**story_arc**](http://community.livejournal.com/story_arc/) [Challenge](http://silentflux.livejournal.com/54179.html) for the prompt "blood". It is the first fic in a new series that I've been contemplating for a while. For right now, the series is gen but may develop later.

~*~

Chicago. He hadn’t been to the windy city in quite a few years. And for all the modern advances, the city itself hadn’t changed much – the thrum of energy as vibrant as ever. It hadn't taken long to track them down with the hints he'd been given.

Angel watched the pair closely from across the room. The younger tall and all limbs but still moving with the underlying deadly grace that bespoke of years of training. His eyes were alert and focused despite the beer in his hand, scanning the busy bar almost constantly.

‘Habits drilled in from infancy die hard,’ the vampire mused, gaze appraising as his finger drew patterns in the condensation of his own mug of beer.

The elder was more compact and every movement displayed a bodily self-confidence that was completely unconscious, every shift of muscle economic and enticing. It wasn't often Angel encountered someone like either of them, and it was intriguing to say the least.

‘Cocky bastard,’ Angel snorted to himself as he saw the man flash a flirting smile at the waitress. But he studied the way the elder brother always tracked the younger and a smile threatened to break free. So much like their father, both of them. Which brought his thoughts back to why he was here, watching the seasoned Hunters so closely.

Two nights ago he’d had no intention of leaving Cleveland any time soon – Faith and the new slayers had need of him – when he’d woken from his dream. As a vampire, he had very little need for true sleep and never actually dreamt of anything clearly. The horrors of his memories haunting him, taunting him with their ever present weight, but not dreams.

  
Therefore, the moment Cordelia whom he’d never expected to see again appeared to him in her always-stunning fashion, smelling of expensive perfume and toting photographs and an iced mocha while bitching about dimensional commutes, he’d known. It really was her.

He’d indulged himself, hugging her tightly and immersing his senses in her presence, breathing in her scent and warmth in the sun of his dreams and her dimension. He’d sighed an unneeded breath almost happily before asking why she had come and what had prompted such a commute as she’d called it.

Warm brown eyes had studied him for a moment and he’d be taken aback by the depths of brown that shimmered with power that had not been there before as well as the sadness and weight of responsibility. Her heavy sigh had resounded and echoed his own weariness.

He’d allowed her to pull him down next to her on the suddenly appearing couch that looked suspiciously like his favorite leather one that had died an auspicious death in the explosion that had almost killed Wesley at their office what seemed like a lifetime ago.

As the words poured forth, forming and dancing and swirling around him in the air disconcertingly, fuzzy and almost indeterminate, one thing was abundantly clear. After all that he had given, sacrificed – even his greatest desire as well as his reward – the Powers still had a job for him. Two boys – Hunters. They needed his protection and aid for their coming battles.

When he’d asked what specifically he was to do, Cordelia had snapped and smiled, “What you do best, gorgeous - saving people.”

She’d shown him photos, provided him with a rough history as best she could in the shifting and swirling dimension of his dreams, but didn’t give him much more except to shudder and tell him that true evil was following the Winchester family.

Angel had awoken with a start, his cheek tingling with the fading sensation of warmth where Cordelia had placed a soft kiss. Sighing heavily, he’d rolled out of bed, packed up the car and talked quietly with Faith over bitter coffee and warmed blood. He’d taken off with a wave and a promise to check in regularly.

“I can take care of myself, Slayer,” he’d teased lightly. She’d flipped him the bird and walked back into the house with a tantalizing swing of hips that was her trademark.

Spike had called to harass him as he drove, not caring at the miffed and irritated tone of his sire. He and Illyria were off helping the new Council. Well, actually, Angel admitted to himself chuckling, Spike was holding Illyria’s leash while enjoying the chance to annoy Giles and Xander to no end.

Snickering softly at the imagined reactions of the two men to Spike’s ever growing repertoire of annoyances, Angel’s dark eyes continued to track the brothers across the crowded room. He managed to deftly keep up a slightly flirtatious commentary with an enticingly scented girl next to him. It appeared that Spike had finally rubbed off on him or at least unearthed some part of him he’d practically forgotten. His childe’s jaw would have dropped at the sight of his normally morose and antisocial sire managing a conversation with a stranger.

It helped that she reminded him vaguely of Kate with her wit and dry humor as his lips twisted into a self-mocking smile. She seemed content to drink and exchange random comments with him as she waited for something or someone. The bartender, he suspected.

He dared to excuse himself to fetch them more drinks so he could brush by the brothers. His nostrils flared, carefully categorizing and discarding the overwhelming scents of smoke, alcohol and sweat, honing and whittling until he found it. The distinctive and extremely male flavor of both Dean and Sam. He could also smell _her_ \- her want, her otherness, her bloodlust calling to his demon’s own. The blonde. She was there for them – for John.

Fists clenching dangerously tight around the two mugs he was carrying, he fought the urge to show his true face and rip her to shreds. Instead, he calmly rejoined his lovely companion and continued to watch. Giles would be so proud.

Dean was a flirtatious devil, and every time Angel saw him flash his cocky smile underlaid with lust that pulled at the recipient, he was reminded of his errant childe. On the other hand, Sam was more introverted and much more interested in his research. At least until he spotted her.

As the night wore on, Angel stayed to watch over the younger brother as he talked with that…thing. He followed Sam as the boy tried to stealthily stalk the demon completely unaware of how conscious it was of him.

Waiting on the darkened street, calculating the game that it was playing, Angel heard the distinctive steps behind him, not that he would have expected anything less.

“You shouldn’t be here, John.” His words were quiet yet hard as he turned to look at the driven and vengeful man who stood silently next to him, the years since he’d last seen him weighed heavily on the man’s shoulders.

“My boys, they’re in trouble,” the elder Winchester stated simply.

“I’ll take care of it. Will you make it easier or harder?” Angel’s voice colored with wry amusement. John had never been one for the easy way, and the vampire waited for the harsh rebuke.

After a long pause, John’s voice, uncertain and almost unsteady in its weariness asked, “You’ll look after them?”

“It’s why I’m here. You know that.” Angel contemplated for a moment before asking hesitantly. “Do you still trust me?”

“They’re all I have, Angel,” came the soft reply.

“And I’ll make sure they stay alive. It’s my task now,” the vampire told him firmly. “And I don’t plan to fail.”

“What will you tell them?” John asked gruffly.

“You'll call them and let them know to expect me. A friend.” Pausing for a moment and scenting the uncertainty and fear wafting from the man next to him, Angel’s eyes flickered gold for a moment. “And then you will get the fuck out of town, John. Before that thing realizes its trap is working.”

Nodding, John walked away without a farewell as always. His fists were clenched in frustration as he stared back at the man – monster – who had saved him once. The same monster he was trusting with his sons.

Slamming the door of the Bronco open, he climbed in and headed out of Chicago. As he passed from Illinois to Missouri, he dialed Dean’s number. His sons would never understand why he didn’t come. He just hoped they would forgive him.

Back in Chicago, Angel studied the warehouse in front of him, contemplating demons, the Winchesters and his next move. Time to go to work.


End file.
